


Longnight

by Thorinsmut Commissions (Thorinsmut)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bilbo's name is still Bilbo, Bofur is the wife, Established Relationship, F/M, Hair Braiding, HobbitHolidayExchange, Lady!Bilbo is a tomboy, One Shot, Post canon, Rule 63, Shh don't question it, Winter Solstice, and myths / religion, cuddlebugs in love, everything in the Shire is a good excuse for a party, everything is cute, liberties taken with the Hobbit calendar, lots of flirting, winter holiday celebration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-27
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-02 17:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1059634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorinsmut/pseuds/Thorinsmut%20Commissions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My fic for the Hobbit Holiday Exchange.<br/>The prompt was <i>Lady!Bilbo/Bofur, something between pure fluff and smut, so... somewhere around a T rating.</i></p><p>I decided that a winter solstice celebration in the Shire would be the perfect scenario.<br/>Please Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Longnight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doctor-thorin-eric-winchester](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=doctor-thorin-eric-winchester).



Bilbo never thought she'd grow her hair out long.

Considering she'd never thought she'd leave the Shire on an adventure, never thought she'd speak to Wizards and Dwarves and Elves and Skinchangers and Dragons, or wield a sword against Orcs and Goblins and Wargs and Spiders, and certainly never thought she'd get _married_ much less to a _Dwarf_... the fact that she wore her hair long now really shouldn't even register on the list of things she'd thought she'd never do.

Still, as she straightened her waistcoat with the pretty gold buttons and tied her cheerful yellow neckerchief in front of the mirror, the fact that her hair curled down to her shoulders now instead of being neatly trimmed as she'd kept it her whole life struck her as strange.

It was soft and _feminine_ curling around her face – it reminded her of her mother, even if it was her father's color.

She'd never thought she'd grow it out like this. Even as a child she'd insisted on keeping it short, and Belladonna had indulged her – letting her dress in breeches instead of skirts and standing up to anyone who thought she ought to encourage her daughter to 'act like a lady'.

Bilbo had never managed the trick of it or seen the point of trying. The girl who was often mistaken for a boy grew into the woman who was often mistaken for a man, and Bilbo Baggins had settled into comfortable bachelorhood in Bag End. She surrounded herself with her books and maps and never expected anything more from life, the flirtations of pretty widows notwithstanding.

The plans of a Wizard had changed all of that, and as Bilbo caught sight of a Dwarf creeping up behind her in the corner of her mirror, she didn't mind at all.

Even though she saw (and heard) him creeping up, she still squeaked a little when he pounced, scooping her right off her feet to plant whiskery kisses on her neck.

“Bofur!” She protested, smacking his arm lightly and not squirming enough to _actually_ escape. “We'll get all rumpled!”

“... _like_ rumpled Hobbits.” he mumbled, warm lips and breath against her neck as he set her back on her feet, his body so solid and warm behind her as his big hands slid upward to cup her breasts through all her layers. He always _did_ like it when she dressed up nice, if only for the perverse pleasure of rumpling her up and undressing her again.

“Bofur...” what had been intended as a gentle reprimand came out more like a moan, her body having its own ideas about the delicious things he was doing. He'd wasted no time learning all the best ways to play her body - her back arched involuntarily, pressing back against him. He hummed approvingly as he switched his kisses to her ear, nibbling up the bottom curve of it.

Bilbo caught sight of them in the mirror, Bofur's warm brown eyes watching her in fascination as she responded to him, all open and wanton and...

No. No, as lovely as that was, it was not the time for it.

She caught his hands, bringing them back down to her tummy as she leaned back firmly against him so he couldn't reach her with his kisses.

“We're going to be _late_.” She said, and Bofur made an agreeing noise, trying to maneuver them so he could kiss her ear, but she ducked it out of his way, spinning out of his arms.

“You're a _terrible_ man.” She accused archly, straightening her waistcoat again, a smile she couldn't suppress softening her sharp tone. Bofur was smiling right back at her, his eyes all crinkled up in the corners.

“You like it.” he told her. He was cleaned up – as cleaned up as he got, so still a bit rough around the edges – his hair was freshly braided into his gravity-defying plaits with shaggy hairs already escaping, his mustache smoothed into a magnificent swoop, and his hobbit-style shirt and breeches only looking a little rumpled.

The handsomest man she'd ever seen, with his eyes dancing laughter at her.

“I like it.” she conceded, wrapping a finger around one swoop of his mustache and drawing him in for a brief kiss. “but we need to get there _before sunset_ , so you have to behave.”

He nodded in agreement and Bilbo smoothed his mustache back down, turning back to the mirror.

“Do something with _this_.” she requested, fluffing her runaway blond curls. Bofur was the one she'd grown it out for, it was _his_ job to manage it.

She hadn't heard a sound of complaint yet.

Bofur eagerly picked the comb up and ran it gently, almost meditatively, through her curls before beginning her braids – for how simply he wore his own hair he was really very good at the more complex styles, his fingers sure and gentle as he braided everything up and out of the way for her, finishing the ends of her braids with gold clasps and giving her a brief hug to signal that he was done.

The Bilbo Baggins that looked back at her from the mirror now looked much more like _her_ , or at least the Bilbo Baggins who'd returned from adventuring married to a Dwarf. Foreign braids suited her better than big curls.

“Thank you.” she said, turning to straighten his braces slightly – not that it would matter, anything he wore was destined to look rumpled within minutes, no matter how carefully it was pressed beforehand.

 

They hurried out the door, wrapped in big fluffy-soft lambswool cloaks, double and triple checking to make sure they hadn't forgotten any of the baskets of food they were bringing. Bofur clapped his battered old flop-eared hat on his head just as they slipped out the door, big clompy boots on his feet.

Bilbo raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything.

“This was easier when I was a confirmed bachelor.” she told him, hefting her baskets of food, “Bachelors aren't expected to help out so much, bring a cask of ale and a few wheels of cheese, if anything. Now that I have a wife, _look_ how much they expect me to bring!”

“... _still_ don't see why _I'm_ the wife.” Bofur said, carrying at least twice as much as she was.

“Because _someone_ has to be and it's not going to be _me_.” Bilbo pointed out, “Besides, I'd make a terrible wife and you're better with the fauntlings.”

“Here I knew you'd been wishing you stayed an old maid...” Bofur sighed, the smile in his eyes letting her know he was teasing.

“ _Bachelor_.” She corrected, “Old maids live with their siblings and help raise the fauntlings and sigh over their lost loves. I was a _Bachelor_.”

“Noted, noted...” He assured her, but she knew he'd forget it again as soon as he thought it would be fun to tease her with it.

She bumped her shoulder against his with a smile, getting bumped affectionately back, and they continued on their way to the Longnight festival.

 

The Longnight festival had always been one of Bilbo's favorites. As a fauntling trying and failing to stay up the _whole_ night – as a tween trying and often succeeding in stealing a little ale and getting in as much trouble as possible – as an adult just enjoying a good party with lots of food and everyone getting a bit silly as the night progressed.

Bilbo and Bofur delivered their baskets of food to the kitchens and joined all Bilbo's Took relatives up on the roof of the Great Smials to watch the sunset.

A hush descended on the Hobbits as the last rays of the sun sank beneath the horizon and the dark of the longest night of the year settled in.

The eldest Took started a song, an old old song laying the year to rest, and everyone joined in. Bofur's arms wrapped around Bilbo tight, singing along on the chorus which of course he picked up by the second repetition.

When the last verse faded away the solemn mood broke and everyone except the person on watch headed back for the warmth of the Great Smials, laughing.

Bilbo toasted Bofur with a mug of hot spiced cider to warm back up, “No sleep until the sun rises!” she told him, and he tapped mugs with her.

They only had a moment before 'Uncle Bofur' was being accosted by some of Bilbo's youngest Took cousins, begging for a story and dragging her Dwarf away laughing.

Bilbo packed a pipe and watched them go.

She'd rescue him in a bit if it seemed he wanted rescue.

 

Things quieted down for a little once most of the overexcited fauntlings fell asleep, their parents stacking them on the cushions piled around in the corners for just such a purpose. The tweens were not yet bold enough to begin causing too much ruckus, but it would come.

Bilbo loaded another plate for herself – the little chicken pies were _especially_ good this year – and grabbed a few tankards of ale and went in search of Bofur. She hadn't seen him for a bit.

She found him surrounded by wide-eyed tweens, all gawping at him as he told a story, not even pausing as she handed him the tankard of ale, but he did give her a wink.

“The earth was _shaking_ with Smaug's roars and Bilbo came ambling back out of the Mountain, calm as you please with Dragon fire lighting behind her, and told us you should never laugh at Dragons.” Bofur took a long drag of his ale, “Bravest lass that ever lived, Bilbo.” he told them, “ _That_ was when I decided I had to marry her.” Several of the tweens sighed at the romance... and then tried to pretend they'd been scoffing.

Bilbo snorted with laughter, “Don't believe that old liar. I was running for my _life_. Scared out of my wits.”

“Hush, you.” Bofur scolded, laughing.

“I thought you said you decided to marry Bilbo when she found you in the Elf dungeons?” one of the tweens challenged.

“ _and_ when you were strung up over the Troll fire?” Another added.

“I never claimed it was the _first_ time I decided to marry her.” Bofur defended himself. “Where was I? Right! Bilbo laughed at the Dragon _to his face_ to get him to fly out of the Mountain for us, so we all went running in while he hunted for us outside...”

Bilbo handed Bofur one of the chicken pies, so he wouldn't miss out on them, and wandered away to go visit with a few of her cousins.

 

Bilbo was taking a turn 'watching for the sun' out on the roof when her cousin Flambard came puffing up to the roof to join her.

“Your Dwarf is singing and dancing on tables.” He commented, accepting a light for his pipe from her as he settled down.

Ah, so it had gotten to that point of the night for Bofur.

“Yes, he does that.” she said.

“Some of the tweens are quite taken with it. Young Primula Brandybuck and a few of her friends actually joined him!”

That was new... ah, but if the Tweens were still around him, and with Bofur's usual repertoire...

“How scandalous are the lyrics?” she asked.

“Not too bad.” he said.

“That'll change.” she assured him, “My watch is still a little longer... if he gets bad just tell him 'the burglar needs to consult with you' and send him out to me.”

Flambard nodded and headed back down into the Great Smials.

It was only a few minutes later that Bofur came running out to find her. He'd forgotten his cloak but he'd found his boots and his hat, and was of course wearing the great floppy thing.

“I was told the burglar needed to consult with me...” he grinned, quirking an eyebrow as he stalked toward her. It had been the running joke in the Company, the excuse they'd used when they wanted a little alone time on the quest. It had gotten to the point where _no one_ could consult with _anyone_ without terrible dirty jokes being told about it. Being told she needed to consult was a sure way to get his attention fast.

“I was cold.” she said, “Let me sit on you.”

“I see how it is,” he mock-grumbled, laughing as he settled down and she wrapped her cloak around them both, sitting in his lap, “I'm nothing but your own personal furnace to you.”

“mmhmm” she agreed, snuggling back against his warm chest, his arms coming around her tight.

“I feel so _used_.” he said mournfully, his hands wandering over her, unseen under the cloak.

“Bofur, we're on watch.” She warned, one of his hands kneading her inner thigh while he nuzzled warm against the side of her neck.

“Aye?” he asked, stilling. He held her the way they had on watch so many times on the Quest, sharing warmth and closeness with each other, keeping each other alert.

“...what are we on watch _for_?” he finally asked.

“The sun.” she answered.

He was quiet for a long time before he spoke again, sounding confused, “But it's the middle of the night. The sun won't rise for _hours_ still.”

“I know.” she said.

“So why are we freezing out here when we could be warm down in the Smial...”

“Tradition.” she answered, _“Someone_ has to be on watch for the sun all through Longnight, to make sure it rises, and everyone has to stay awake if they can. That's just how it is.”

“But why?” Bofur asked.

Bilbo pondered that for a bit, and Bofur's hands were wandering again, just a little bit, just affectionately rubbing her tummy and snuggling her close.

“It's not really a night, you know.” She finally said, “It falls between the sunset of the final day of the year and the sunrise of the first, so it's a strange nothing-time. There's stories that it's the time when spirits travel on, so no one wants their spirit to be confused and follow into the beyond while they're sleeping. Also, watching for the sun lets her know she hasn't been forgotten, or taken for granted. If no one were waiting for her she might not choose to come for another year, but if she has a guest waiting she _has_ to come calling. It would be rude otherwise...”

“But mostly, it's just an excuse for a big party.” Bilbo finished.

“Hobbits and parties...” Bofur grinned, giving her a squeeze.

“There is _never_ a bad reason to throw a party.” Bilbo said firmly.

“I wouldn't argue with a Hobbit about parties.” Bofur conceded, and they settled in comfortably to watch the dark horizon for the sun.

 

The party had gotten into full swing by the time Bilbo and Bofur were replaced on watch. The tweens were missing, which was a sure indication that they were getting themselves in trouble somewhere, which was practically traditional too.

Several of the older gaffers and gammers had fallen asleep in chairs, so several of the younger cousins were stacking things on them as a game.

There was dancing, to keep everyone moving and alert. No longer being one of the Shire's most eligible bachelors meant Bilbo could just _enjoy_ the dancing for once. Bofur had been persuaded to leave his boots at the door, but she hadn't been able to get him to part with his hat. The silly old thing flopped on his head as they danced each other around and around.

Bofur had picked the Hobbit dances up quickly, which was good because Bilbo _loved_ dancing, though he did sometimes complain that they could use some good stomping like Dwarf dances.

Bilbo and Bofur danced until they were warmed up and alert again, and then they went in search of some more food.

The sweeter stuff was on display now – Bilbo's cherry cordial tarts were going over well – and they loaded up on pecan pie and lemon squares and and crisp little ginger snaps, and some cheese to cut the sweetness.

They found a nice cozy pile of cushions that hadn't been claimed by sleeping fauntlings and Bilbo sat on Bofur's lap while they fed each other bites of food.

Bilbo nipped at Bofur's fingers, his eyes warm as he let her catch his rough fingers between her lips.

A group of giggling tweens carrying something, probably something they shouldn't have, ran past.

“Find a room!” one of them called back before they disappeared laughing around a corner.

Bofur raised an eyebrow, and it _was_ a tempting suggestion – to finish rumpling Bofur up and get properly rumpled herself. They certainly wouldn't be the _only_ pair getting up to something in one of the Great Smials' many rooms during Longnight.

“You'd fall asleep, after.” Bilbo said, shaking her head regretfully.

“I mean... I could _probably_...” Bofur tried, cut off by a _look_ from Bilbo, which she followed with a kiss to his candy-sweet mouth to take the sting away.

“I _know_ you.” She told him, bonking their foreheads together gently, padded by his hat, and he nodded ruefully with a small laugh. He knew it was true as much as she did.

They fed each other the last of their sweets and went off in search of something to drink... and then more _dancing_. Maybe they'd teach a few Dwarf dances, if anyone was in the mood for them.

Anything to keep awake until the sun rose!

 

The gammers and gaffers were woken up, the fauntlings roused from their pillow piles, and the giggling tipsy tweens rounded up. Everyone bundled up _warm_ and climbed back up onto the roof to watch the skyline turn gray, and slowly orange-pink. Bilbo nestled warm in Bofur's arms, their breaths frosting out in the cold air as they waited.

There was a cheer as the first edge of the new year's sun peeked over the horizon in gold. The younger fauntlings, encouraged by their parents, began a song welcoming in the new year and everyone joined in.

They sang all together, even Bofur who'd picked up the chorus by the second repetition, until the sun was fully risen, the bottom edge finally leaving the horizon, Longnight officially over and the new year begun, and everyone cheered again.

Bilbo turned and kissed Bofur fiercely, the twin swoops of his mustache tickling her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around his neck, knocking his hat askew.

He tried to catch her back when she drew away, but she grabbed his hand and began towing him back toward the Great Smials, trying to get a head start on the free-for-all as couples old and new stopped kissing and did the same.

“Bilbo?” Bofur's questioning tone revealed that, while he was going along with it, he had _no idea_ what was going on.

“We should find a room... to _consult_.” she gave him a wink over her shoulder, “It's good luck to start the new year right...”

In an instant he'd swept her off her feet and was running downhill, darting expertly around Hobbits as if Wargs were on their tail, and she couldn't contain her squeal of victorious laughter as they outpaced everyone.

Marrying a Dwarf had _advantages_.

“I _love_ Hobbit parties.” he grinned, kicking to door of the room she'd chosen for them closed. He set her down and gave her a long kiss, his hands roaming freely up and down her back and now it _finally_ didn't matter if she got all rumpled.

“That's because Hobbits are the _best_ at parties.” Bilbo told him when she finally had her mouth back, pulling his braces down and starting on the buttons of his shirt while he did much the same for her.

She moaned as his rough hands finally found her skin, half-worshipful whispers against her neck as he kissed his way up it and carried her to the bed.

Bilbo had never thought she'd have someone to share a proper new years morning with. It was a small thing, that maybe shouldn't even register on the list of things she'd never expected to do, but somehow it still did.

And she couldn't be happier.


End file.
